


Strictly Cupboards

by procrastinationstationidc



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Strictly Come Dancing RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Strictly Come Dancing Fusion, F/F, Female Enjolras, Female Grantaire, Femslash, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Pining, Same-sex ballroom, Scheming Courf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27865741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinationstationidc/pseuds/procrastinationstationidc
Summary: Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Combeferre are professional dancers on Strictly Come Dancing. Grantaire is the washed out x-factor winner from back in the day who was secretly signed up to compete on this year's series by her kindly devious manager come best friend Eponine.The sad thing about Strictly is: There's never been a same-sex couple competing on the show since its inception nearly two decades ago -- up until that fatal launch show two weeks ago.Now Grantaire is in way over her head and Enjolras is being irritatingly oblivious. Courf takes charge and with Eponine's help she makes sure Enjolras and Grantaire get some time for a nice, uninterrupted chat.In the closet.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Strictly Cupboards

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't start out as Les mis, but as an interlude in something else I'm currently writing. It didn't quite fit where it was supposed to, which makes a whole lot of sense, since all of les amis had obviously snuck in and taken over my characters. Well, I think they had fun.
> 
> Keeeeep dancing!

“Courf - don’t you dare, I’ll not buy your cereals for a month if you-!”

Grantaire’s ears, where’s she’s leaning her head against a box of leftover fabric pieces prick up. There’s a shuffle outside the cupboard door, a sound like the chair being wrenched from under the knob, and before Grantaire can so much as attempt a shuffle onto her knees, the door is being pulled open, light flooding in, and the bodily restrained figure of Enjolras is shoved through.

“Work it out!” Courfeyrac calls in, and before Grantaire knows what’s happening, the door is slammed shut again, and she is locked in a bloody sewing cupboard with Frendoline Enjolras. Wonderful. Thanks so much, Courf.

“What the bloody hell, Courf! Combeferre!” Enjolras is pounding with her hands against the door. Futile. There’ll be no mercy. Grantaire knows, seeing as she’s been sitting here in the cupboard of the costume department for nigh on an hour now. At least now she knows what she was waiting for. 

“Open this door! Right. Now!” Enjolras, on the other hand, seems to be still oblivious.

Looking up at her from where Grantaire is crouched on her knees, Grantaire’s momentarily blinded eyes slowly re-adjust to the semi-darkness, and when Enjolras finally accepts her fate and turns her back to the door in order to slump bodily against it, Grantaire realises that her hands have been tied together with a tie.

“Didn’t come willingly, did you.”

Enjolras, eyes closed in resignation, jerks upright at Grantaire’s voice. 

“Grantaire?” She squints in the half light. Frowns. “Where did you disappear to after lunch? I was looking for you! And what are you doing in the cupboard?”

Grantaire snorts and lets her head fall back against the shelf. “Look who’s asking.”

Apparently Enjolras has nothing clever to say to that. She slumps back against the door and slides down to the ground. “I’m assuming that means Courfeyrac and Eponine got to you, too. I see.” She sighs. “This is really terribly childish. Locking two grown women into a cupboard together as if that would magically solve all their relationship problems.” Enjolras shakes her head disappointedly.

“Oh so you suddenly think there’s a relationship to have problems with, then?”

“Of course there’s a relationship here!” Enjolras near shouts, taking Grantaire by surprise. “Of course, we’re uniquely situated and vulnerable dance partners on a highly demanding, televised competition--”

Right. For a minute there Grantaire actually thought this was going somewhere entirely unlikely, but of course Enjolras is still concerned about their performance on the show and its potential impact. And, yes, fair. Being the first same-sex couple on Strictly Come Dancing’s decade long history is quite a big deal. But not everyone can always prioritise the greater good over their own well-being. Not everyone can be Frendoline Enjolras, professional dancer extraordinaire and the nation’s darling. 

Some people have to content with being a chewed out X-factor winner from back in the day, an involuntary retiree cursed with a meddling manager come best friend who signs them up for a show on telly without asking (thanks, again, Ep). If they can just about cope with having the surprise gimmick of being in Strictly’s first same-sex couple thrust upon them mid launch show, then that’s already more than anyone’s owed, really. 

Enjolras, perfect Artemis herself, is of course entirely happy to continue fighting for social justice even as she is locked in a cupboard with her inadequate but unfortunately equally indispensable dance partner. Grantaire sighs.

“-- for which it is entirely necessary, that we not only have chemistry on screen but that we trust each other off screen, at least up to certain point, and don’t you dare believe I am entirely unaware of the fact that you have been avoiding my company as much as possible!”

Oh. 

“You noticed that?” 

Grantaire had really thought she’d been rather clever in subtly making sure there’d always be other people in the cafeteria to hide behind at lunch breaks and in various other moments that weren’t entirely contingent on their coupledom on the dancefloor or the rehearsal space.

“Of course I did!” Enjolras sounds downright insulted and Grantaire cringes away instinctively. “Now I know you think my ambitions are stupid, and that I’m creating all this fuss only for us to be kicked out of the competition first chance, as a ‘tried and failed’ approach to diversity--”

“I don’t--” Grantaire tries, but Enjolras talks right over her.

“--and I get it, and that’s your personal prerogative, but, believe it or not, this actually means a lot to me, so could you please at least pretend not to find this entire situation quite so distasteful?”

Grantaire’s mouth drops open. 

“...Distasteful?” she croaks. “You believe I’m avoiding you because I find you distasteful?”

“Well, I may not be able to prove that your dismissive behaviour concerns me personally,” Enjolras reluctantly allows. “But your distaste for the same-sex coupling is undeniable, and it is invariably tied up with my person, so it’s only logical--

“Hold up, hold up-” Grantaire cannot believe what she is hearing. “Are you seriously telling me you think I’ve been avoiding you -- which I have, yes, fine --” Grantaire allows, but continues, before Enjolras can book this admission as her having been right, which she so absolutely, entirely, has not been-

“--but because thinking of you and queer dancing disgusts me?” Grantaire can’t help but laugh at hearing herself say it out loud. It’s beyond ridiculous.

Enjolras is frowning at her again. “Haven’t you?”

“No! Oh my god, Enjolras--” Grantaire shakes her head disbelievingly. “You are literally the only reason I’m still in this fucking dump of a studio.”

Unable to continue this while facing Enjolras’s confused eyes only an arms length away and unable to escape their physical proximity, Grantaire drops her face into her hands. 

“Jesus,” Grantaire tells her hands. “I do think it’s great that there’s finally a shred of queer representation on this goddamn show, I do. I just wish they’d gotten a better role model than me, or at least someone who at least had a shred of talent that would help with the whole public image thing.”

She takes a deep breath. 

“You’re the only one I can imagine pulling this off, actually. I just didn’t wanna be around you more than absolutely necessary because...” Grantaire groans. “Because I’m trying to wean myself off slowly, okay? If I inevitably have to say goodbye to Strictly come Saturday, I don’t wanna have to go cold turkey.”

There, she said it. Grantaire waits for a gasp of understanding to signal Enjolras’ realisation, maybe followed by a sympathetic attempt to let her down gently. Because Enjolras would do her best to be bloody well accepting of everyone, even if it kills her, even if it turns out to be someone she’d really rather disliked. But the expected let down doesn’t come.

“I don’t get it,” is all Enjolras says instead.

Exasperated and exhausted after what had been a frankly rather obvious admission on her part, Grantaire lifts her face to stare at Enjolras disbelievingly.

“What of that could you possibly not get?”

“Well, you say you are trying to wean yourself off Strictly, - which, by the way, is an utterly counterproductive approach, you will not leave yet --” 

Grantaire snorts but Enjolras dismissively waves that away, too.

“--but yet you spend every moment you can with Courf and Combeferre, and Marius and all the others! If you were to actually leave and they’d continue, they’d be far too busy to spend much time with outside of Strictly!”

“I don’t…” 

Frankly, Grantaire doesn’t really know how to respond to such a dense performance from this patently rather genius individual. Exhausted, she rakes a hand through her knotted hair. 

“Enjolras, I meant I’m trying to wean myself off your company, for fuck’s sake. You’re the one I’m pressed up, chest to chest, for twelve hours every day! You’re the one whose even temporary attention is far too fucking addictive. You’re the one who is spending time with me only because it’s been ordinated from above and you’re the only one who I will only ever see again on telly once this blasted show is done!”

Jeesh. Grantaire catches her breath. Good quality humiliation takes way too much effort. God, this is bloody exhausting. For a minute, Enjolras just stares at her. Seeing as Nora can’t exactly leave, she waits for Enjolras to restart. Then all she can seem to think of is:

“Oh.”

Grantaire snorts, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, oh.”

She shakes her head, then drops it back against the shelf and closes her eyes.

“We clear now?”

No reply. 

“I’ll take that as a yes. So we can go back rehearsing for your super important representation waltz, and I’ll even pretend like I don’t think this is our last week. Although,” Grantaire considers, “this has pretty much taken it out off me, so you might have to dial it back a notch for the rest of today. Which,” Grantaire tries to make out her watch in the dim light. “Isn’t actually that much longer. I wonder what time Courf and Eponine plan on releasing us--”

“It’s not just tolerance for the sake of the greater good,” Enjolras interrupts her.

“I-- what?” 

Enjolras is watching her very intently, as if this was important. 

“I mean to say, I don’t just tolerate your presence for the sake of the greater good.” 

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Enjolras mimics, softly.

They smile hesitantly.

Suddenly there’s a ruckus outside their cupboard and the door opens to reveal a sheepish looking Courf, an unimpressed Eponine and an exasperated looking Combeferre.

“Well, kiddos, I hope you got your shit sorted, because Ferre is being the ‘responsible one’ once more and has decreed an end to our genius plan,” Courfeyrac tells them. “Come on, then, up and at them! Where’s your enthusiasm? Out, out, I don’t have all day! Every minute of rehearsal is precious!”

Grantaire wisely leans out of the way to let Enjolras get to her first.


End file.
